Moments
by pinkpearl89
Summary: Random fluff in the life of Jaina and Jag. The image was borrowed from Falconfan with much thanks
1. New Perspective

Hello everyone!

So this is a very short one-shot that popped into my head. Actually, the Jag/Han part popped into my head, but the rest of it followed soon after. Anyways, I'm not entirely sure when this is set in the timeline. It is merely a short snippet of a scenario that I hope will come to pass since I love Jaina/Jag and I would hate to see them with anyone else.

I hope you enjoy it, and please leave a review!

**Disclaimer: I honestly don't want to insult anyone's intelligence, but just in case anyone was wondering, I'm not George Lucas.**

xxxxx

"You're never touching me again!" Jaina screeched as she squeezed the life out of his poor hand. Jag was tending to agree with her at the moment—partially because he hated seeing her in so much pain and partially because he would only have one hand left after this ordeal.

And, personally, Jag rather liked having hands.

"You're almost there, love," he encouraged, rubbing her back soothingly with the hand that wasn't suffering from her vice-grip. "Just a few more pushes, and you'll be done."

Jaina merely grunted in response, then screamed as she pushed forward again. Jag caught a droid rolling by and whispered softly, "Where are her pain medications?"

Unfortunately, the droid did not have a whisper setting, and announced the answer to the entire room full of doctors. "Knight Solo has already taken the maximum amount of drugs allowed for her bodyweight. We cannot administer more until the child is born."

"Great," Jaina growled, "just what I needed to hear."

"Push," commanded the doctor at the end of the bed. Jag prepared to lose more sensation from his fingers. Unfortunately, he was not disappointed.

"One more push," the doctor encouraged, "the shoulders are already out."

Jag supported her shoulders, and Jaina screamed as she gave one final shove.

Immediately the high wails of a baby were heard. Jaina sagged against him in relief, clutching his hand less desperately than before. Jag silently thanked the Force for the blood-flow that was returning to his fingers as he tracked the baby across the room. He watched as the doctors handed her off to each other until one stopped at a sink and began sponging the baby off.

Mere moments later a neatly wrapped bundle was put into Jag's arms.

The first thing he saw was a tuft of black hair peeking out from under the blanket. Then he looked down into her face, her beautiful, sweet, innocent face, and found that she was staring up at him with big eyes. They were still a cloudy blue. Jag was suddenly impatient, wanting to know what color her eyes would be. He desperately hoped that they would be the wonderful caf color of Jaina's eyes.

He looked down at Jaina and grinned. Then he bent to lay their baby into her arms and softly kissed both of their foreheads. Jaina smiled through her exhaustion, and he knew that she could feel his elation.

Jaina looked down at the baby and reached a hand up, playing with her tuft of hair. His daughter's eyes closed lazily at the touch and she fell asleep against her mother's chest.

"Jag," Jaina whispered, not looking away from the bundle in her arms, "We have a little girl."

He could hear the happiness in her voice. He could feel it in his own bones—although he thought that may have been due to the fact that he was nearly bursting with happiness himself.

And admiration.

And an intense need to punch all of the male doctors in the room for being within ten feet of his beautiful daughter.

Jag resisted that urge, but he realized with dread that he would have to have an uncomfortable chat with Han Solo soon. Speaking of which, both sets of grandparents were waiting just outside, along with a few aunties, uncles, and cousins who were eager to meet the new addition to the Fel-Solo families.

But, for the moment, he was content to simply stare at his beautiful baby girl and marvel at the fact that he and Jaina had made this perfect creature.

xxxxx

"Sir," Jag said, standing in as relaxed a posture as he could manage with his feet shoulder-width apart, his hands clasped behind his back, and inclining his head politely. Somehow he still looked as though he was giving a formal salute. Han chalked it up to his unnaturally perfect posture.

"Fel," Han said, wondering why his son-in-law was here, instead of at home with his wife and new daughter. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Did you want to have another round of celebratory drinks?"

"No, sir. I came to apologize, sir."

"Drop the sir, kid. You're making me feel as old as I am."

"Sorry, si—Han."

Han hid his smirk by turning to the bar and pouring two glasses of Whreyn's finest. "Well, then, what were you trying to apologize for? I have to admit you've got me confused."

Jag cleared his throat and looked Han in the eye. "I came to apologize for stealing Jaina's heart, sir. You may punch me if you like."

Han stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. He clapped the younger man on the back before handing him his glass of whiskey. Han had to give the man credit—Jag had come without Jaina, which meant he was actually serious about this offer. Han had to admit it was tempting. Ten years ago—hell, ten minutes ago—he would have taken Jag up on that offer.

"The baby girl got to you, did she? Well kid, thanks for the offer, but no."

"No?"

"No. With that beautiful baby girl you've got, you're going to get it back tenfold soon enough. Just wait until some flyboy comes knocking at _your_ door asking to take your daughter to dinner."

Jag paled visibly. "I think I would rather you punched me now, sir."

Han laughed and guided him to the couch. "I don't blame you, kid. And I told you to stop calling me sir."

xxxxx

I hope you liked it! Please review : )


	2. Reflections

Even at this late hour the bright lights of Coruscanti traffic were enough to illuminate the room where she sat, pensive.

She glanced quickly at the offending chair, then back out the viewport as she sucked in a deep breath. Slowly, she let it out, envisioning her anxiety being carried out on the soft gust of air. Anxiety was unnecessary. She had made this decision a month ago-made it on gut instinct rather than logic or hours of mediation, it was true, but it had been made nevertheless. And she preferred decisions made on instinct anyway. They were usually the right ones, unclouded by emotion and unfettered by over-analysis.

It was still somewhat of a shock, but she would become accustomed.

Everyone would.

Her mother had nodded her approval of the plan, a look of understanding in her eyes. Her father had given in rather quickly, given the circumstances.

The memory of Han's reaction put a quirk to her lips as she looked over to an inactivated Threepio. Han had played nice in front of Jaina, telling her that Imperials were sticklers for protocol and that she would be lost without the droid, but she still suspected that Threepio was more a punishment to Jag than a gift to her.

The small smirk quickly disappeared though, when she turned her eyes again to the chair next to the protocol droid.

Her gaze had been drawn to that chair all night. On it she had laid her immaculate new uniform. The scarlet didn't show in the colored traffic lights, but the crisp lines were still easy to pick out. As was the insignia on the left breast.

Turning her gaze back to the viewport, she took another deep breath and felt it settle in her belly before letting it back out. She had no regrets about her decision to leave the Jedi-leave her uncle-and join Jag on Bastion. She needed it.

Those who were not close to her would not have noticed, but Leia and Han had seen it nearly immediately. As had Luke, when he returned. She was drifting, not quite aimless but with no real direction since she had killed Jacen.

She always called him Jacen, regardless of how everyone wanted her to call him Caedus. She hadn't cut down Caedus, she resolved that in her mind long ago. She cut down Jacen, because that was who he was for the split second that allowed her to end his life. And that was who she could now feel glowing brightly in the little piece of her mind that was their twin bond.

Joining Jag in Bastion wasn't running from regret, though she knew that was how it would be interpreted. Regrets had been all but absolved the moment she felt that bond again, and understood that wherever Jacen was, he understood and forgave her. But she had come to the realization that she no longer belonged _here_. A change was imminent, and she intended to make it a big one.

That being said, Jag's offer was nearly too good to refuse.

She smirked again as she realized he had probably done that on purpose. Redesigning, heading, and training of the recommissioned royal guard, as well as command of all squadrons assigned to the Head of State's flagship-if the position had come with any other insignia on the uniform she would have said yes in a heartbeat. Even if she did doubt that Jag would actually defer to her judgement on the latter.

The only problem, really, was that the Imperial crest would be a part of her new identity. Each time she followed Jag into a negotiation, each time she came home to visit her father, hell each time she looked in the kriffing mirror, it would be there. Stark against the red backdrop of her robes.

It wasn't the same Empire. Not with Jag in charge. She knew that.

But it still went against the grain.

She could still remember that she used to play Chase Away the Imperials with Jacen and Anakin. They had devised several games to decide who would be the Imperial, and she had always fought tooth and nail to be sure that she wasn't it. She wondered at the hell they would give her now...

Another deep breath pushed out both the nostalgia and the sorrow. They might give her a ribbing, but they would be happy for her. She was sure of it. Especially as she had strong suspicions that a certain engagement band would make a reappearance soon after her arrival.

She took another deep breath.

This was a good thing.

She needed this.

She _wanted_ this. Truth be told, she relished the thought of the stability that this would provide.

Yes, the right choice had been made.

Another deep breath allowed her to turn her eyes back to her uniform as she relaxed her formal meditation pose and laid her head against the plush chair behind her. Light was finally beginning to seep through the transparisteel and hinting at the vibrant red of the garment. For a moment she considered wearing it through the hangar bay, just to see how many people she could spook.

She smiled as the light touched Threepio's photoreceptors and he reactivated, beginning his babbling almost immediately. Yes, her father had definitely meant the droid to be a punishment to Jag, even if it was only a few days before they came to Bastion to reclaim him.

Getting up to carefully pack away the uniform, She wondered if Jag would get bored with seeing her in red...


	3. Family Matters

Jag could feel the sadness rolling off of her as surely as any Jedi, of that he was certain.

Jaina looked outwardly calm, curled up against Allana and softly stroking the sleeping child's hair.

He knew better. And, judging by the way she was staring into her niece's face, Jag was fairly confident that he could guess her thoughts.

Using the excuse of getting ready for bed, Jag slipped into the fresher to give her a moment alone. He knew she needed it. But when he climbed into bed several minutes later, she spoke immediately.

"She looks just like him."

It was barely a whisper, filled with both pain and happiness. Jag wasn't sure that she would have said it if he had actually been facing her, rather than pressed against her back.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, taking a moment to decide what to say. For once, he had no experience with which to commiserate, no wisdom to share. They had always been able to understand each other, he and Jaina, kindred spirits because of the loss of siblings. They understood the unending sadness of losing loved ones that were never supposed to be lost.

But this...this was different. Force only knew how he would have reacted if he had found that Davin or Cherith had a child, a part of them that still lived. And Jaina met her neice only a few days after killing her brother. After killing Allana's father.

So it was easy to comprehend the way Jaina had been avoiding the girl. How could she confront this image of innocence so soon after what she had done? Jag was sure that the child was not even aware of what she had lost, but no doubt she had seen the pain in Jaina's eyes. It must have been that sensitivity that caused Allana to stick to Jaina like engine grease to a fresh jumpsuit - hence her insistence on staying here until the morning, rather than going home with Han and Leia.

The poor girl wanted to cheer up her new aunt.

"She's all the best parts of him," Jag whispered softly into her ear, tightening his arm around her waist as he realized that he would never be able to fully understand the agony that Allana brought her aunt. Killing her demented brother, then learning that she'd left his innocent daughter without a father - he couldn't imagine the ways her mind must be tormenting her.

It occurred to him suddenly that Jaina already knew Allana was the best parts of her father, and that only made it worse. After spending months convincing herself that there was nothing left to save, how could she now confront the best parts of the brother she had killed?

Recovery was suddenly a road ten times longer than Jag had thought.

"She loves you, Jaina."

"She won't once she realizes what I took from her."

"You took a man who would have steered her wrong and sabotaged her happiness. You gave her in return a loving family with a princess, a queen, and yourself as role models. And a grandfather and uncle who will spoil her silly."

"Uncle?" She asked, confused, "Tenel Ka doesn't have any-_oh_. Really?"

"Well I may be busy at work Jaina, but I wasn't planning on going anywhere anytime soon."

She relaxed at that explanation, and he imagined she might be smiling if he could see her face. That was good. During the previous week he had determined that making Jaina a frequent smiler was a top-priority mission.

"So you'd be the type who spoils the kids, huh?" She asked. Yes, he was certain that he could hear a smile in her voice.

He grinned against her shoulder and pressed a soft kiss to it. "Absolutely. She has the same little button nose that you had in those holos your mother showed me."

"You think?"

"Mmm. And I was thinking that I might convince her to give our newest princess bangs, as well."

Jaina half snorted and half laughed. "Alright, two things wrong with that, flyboy. First off, trying to make her look like an eight-year-old me is kinda creepy, Mr. New Uncle. And second, I suddenly find that I'm the only non-royal woman in the family. It doesn't exactly do wonders for a girl's self-esteem, you realize."

Jag had to smile at her dry tone. "There is nothing creepy about wanting to spoil a child who looks like her aunt, who also happens to be my very beautiful girlfriend. And must I remind you that it is beneath a goddess to envy mere mortals? Even if they are princesses and queens?"

She squirmed so that she was on her back, facing up to him. "You're smooth, flyboy, you know that?"

"Of course." He answered simply.

Jaina cocked a brow at him in challenge but he gave her a smug smile. "I _do_ have a goddess and a princess in my bed."

She laughed and smacked his shoulder, turning her back to him once more. He readjusted his hold on her waist as they fell silent. After a while, her breaths steadied enough for Jag to wonder if she had fallen asleep.

"Do you think she'll forgive me? When she's old enough to understand?"

"You're not responsible for what your brother became, Jaina."

"But will she-"

"Yes, she will."

The confidence in his voice seemed to reassure her slightly, but still it was only a moment before she asked the obvious question.

"How do you know?"

"She is surrounded by too much love to think otherwise."

There was no response, and Jag knew that she was thinking about his assertion. Apparently it calmed her, because he soon felt her breathing slow and knew that she was asleep. He was still awake an hour later, simply holding her and thinking.

His words were true, of that he was certain. Allana was surrounded by too much love to think that there was any wrong in her past. And Jag was determined to make sure that Jaina was also surrounded by love, so that she could forgive herself for doing what had to be done.


	4. Strange Capers

***  
"I still think those capers tasted a bit strange," Jag insisted, "You shouldn't have finished them all."

"Relax, Jag. You're overreacting," Jaina assured him. Letting him lead her by the hand, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the brisk Coruscanti night.

"Whose couch will you be laying on for a week when you catch some virus?"

Her eyes snapped open and and she started to pull her hand from his. "Well, if you don't want me there-"

"That's not what I was trying to say," he corrected himself, tightening his grip on her hand and using it to draw her closer.

She simply arched a brow at him, waiting.

Jag's eyes went up slightly. The beginning of an eye-roll - he never got through the whole thing. She got the distinct feeling that despite giving in to several of the bad habits he had learned from her, he was trying to fight this one.

"You're welcome on my couch whenever you please. In fact, you're even more welcome in my bed. That doesn't change the fact that there's no reason to get sick unnecessarily."

"Jedi, remember?" She asked, tapping her temple. "There was nothing wrong with those capers, but, even if there was, they wouldn't be enough to give me so much as a stomach ache."

"Doesn't that fall under trivial use of the Force?" He pointed out as they started to walk again.

"Keeping myself healthy? No."

"No," he clarified, "intentionally eating spoiled food just because you know your Jedi training will help you avoid repercussions."

"Oh, that. Well, it's good to have practice."

"Naturally," he deadpanned, getting a little further in the eye-rolling process before he remembered to stop himself.

"Anyways, we still have the rest of the night to-"

"Hey!" An inebriated man called cheerfully as he fell into Jag. Jaina looked him up and down, taking in his wide-brimmed hat, flashy poncho, and big mustache. For some reason he looked familiar.

"Junior! Fancy seeing _you_here! And the little lady!" Another man, similarly dressed, also somewhat familiar. He leaned over to prod at Jaina, and Jag smacked at him as she leaned away. "You and your Dad always did know how to pick'em, little Fel, I'll give you that-"

"_Uncle_," Jag called to an approaching figure, his voice half relief and half consternation. "What are you all doing?"

That was when Jaina realized that there were two more heavily mustached and poncho-wearing men coming toward them, that one of them was Wedge Antilles, and that the other was Wes Janson. And then it all clicked.

Jaina groaned. Suddenly she recognized the other two men who were hugging Jag and trying to poke her ribs.

"Face, Myn," she acknowledged as she pushed hands away from her red dress. And Jag had been so happy with it at the start of the evening. "Nice Spirit Day costumes."

"Complete with ridiculous levels of drunkenness," Jag muttered under his breath as Jaina tried not to laugh.

"I'm not Face!" Loran protested enthusiastically, "I'm Dod!"

"I'm Lod!" Myn chimed in as he pinched at her rib. She wasn't entirely sure, as Jag was employing his patented Fel Glare Face, but she thought that Myn might have been aiming a bit higher.

Of course, that would have meant that a Wraith had missed his mark.

No, she decided, Myn had been aiming for that rib and Jag's Fel Glare Face was no longer effective. She would have fun teasing him about that later.

"And I'm Fod!" Wedge called as he and Wes finally made it to the couple. His proclamation was followed by a round of 'yep's' and head-nodding.

Jag was already exasperated, she could tell. But she thought it was rather funny.

"And who are you?" He asked Wes, "Nod?"

"Nod?" Wes asked, brightening considerably, "Hey, that's a good one, isn't it? Should I go with 'Nod?'"

"Yep."

"Yep."

"Yep."

Jaina held in a laugh, mostly because she could feel Jag's internal groan.

"You look pretty, little lady," Face said, leaning around Jag and Myn to see her.

"Pretty enough to marry," Myn added, nodding profusely and attempting to take another swipe at her. She might have been imagining it, but she thought that Jag had swatted him away quite a bit harder that time-

"Don't do it!" Wes screeched, "Her dad's Han Solo!"

With the exception of Jag, a look of pure terror crossed the faces of all men present. Once again, Jaina found herself holding in a laugh.

"Run for it!" Myn yelled, taking off down the street.

The other three looked around at each other for barely a second longer.

"Should we go after him?" Wedge asked, not sounding excited about the idea.

"Yep," Loran nodded.

"Yep," Wes agreed.

"Yep," Jag chimed him, probably hoping to get them going faster. Jaina couldn't help laughing at that.

But it worked, and in seconds they had all taken off down the street after Myn, who hadn't gotten far before passing out on the walkway.

Jaina and Jag simply stood there for a moment, staring down the street after them. Finally, Jag's annoyance was too much for him.

"Were the Wraiths just..._hitting_on you?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"And did Wes Jason just _stop_them?"

"I think so."

Jag was silent for a moment. Then, "Strange."

"Very," Jaina agreed. "You should call them a cab, though."

"I don't think so."

"But if anyone manages to snap their picture the media circus will-"

"Be quite amusing," Jag finished, surprising her.

"What?" She asked, the confusion evident on her features.

"I know my uncle," he explained. "There's no way they put those costumes on _before_getting drunk."

Jaina laughed at his evil smirk. "Good point. Will you be delivering the rags yourself in the morning?"

"I'll bring them some caf too," he defended himself, the smirk turning into a malicious grin.

"Oh, well as long as there's caf, I'll come too."

"Excellent," he turned to her, the malice replaced with mischief. "You can stay at my place so we can be up bright and early."

Jaina grinned back. "You're cruel tonight, Jag."

"Strange, isn't it?"

"Very."


	5. Completely Thrilled Son of a Sith

She sat.

She paced.

She wrung her hands.

She sat again.

None of it seemed to help.

Jaina knew that there was no reason to be nervous about his reaction. She _knew_ that. But she couldn't help it. She only had five minutes until he got home. And he was never late.

He might even be a minute or two early.

That thought sparked a deep dread of him coming home sooner than five-make that four-minutes.

Annoyed with her own silliness, Jaina huffed at herself as she collapsed into a chair. She forced herself to stay put, but couldn't help crossing her arms and legs and jiggling an ankle in a subconscious attempt to release tension.

Three minutes.

Three minutes until he got home, and she still hadn't dealt with the fact that an over-the-counter test, an appointment with their private family healer, and a burning little Force-presence were all screaming the same thing at her. Truth be told, she probably wouldn't until she was wrapped up in his arms and could feel how happy he was. Yes, spending a few minutes basking in Jag's happiness _would_ be helpful in coming to terms with all of this.

The only problem was that it would require actually telling him, and she wasn't sure she could get the words out.

Although, there was something to be said for only having to say it once to Jag, and then making him give the announcement to all their family and friends. Well, no, it wouldn't be fair to leave him to tell her father all by himself-"Hey there beautiful, how was your day?"

Shavit! What was she going to say?

But he took one look at her posture in the chair and spared her the trouble of answering. "Not so good, huh?" He pulled a protein shake from the fridge and turned back to her, "Lieutenant Dacryn again? I could always have him transferred to another squadron, you know, just say the word. He's giving you far more trouble than necessary for a simple change in simming protocols-"

"It's not Dacryn." She looked up to see that his eyes were calmly trained on her, waiting. She took a deep breath, and suddenly all those phrases she had practiced in front of the mirror earlier were moot. None of them came to mind-not that any of them had really been good enough anyway-and she found that all she could do was to spit it out.

"I'm pregnant."

Well, so much for finesse.

But as the moments stretched on, Jaina became less concerned with her lack of oratory skills and more concerned with Jag's silence. She knew, somewhere in the tiny part of her mind that was still somewhat logical, that what felt like minutes of silence was probably only about twenty or thirty seconds. But it still made her feel like hell.

"Force, Fel! This is the part where you're supposed to tell me that this is absolutely wonderful and that I don't need to be worried and that you're completely thrilled, you brainless son of a Sith!" How had she gone from impossibly nervous to raging mad so fast? Were her mood swings kicking in already?

No, she decided, he was just an idiot.

Jag's dumbfounded expression quickly morphed into one of unabashed delight. "Sorry," he murmured, swiftly closing the distance between them and cupping her face with his hands. He bent to brush a soft kiss against her lips. Much as she hated to admit it - and regardless of the fact that she wanted to stay mad at him for not reacting properly - she couldn't help but relax at his touch.

He pulled away far too soon for her liking. And she wasn't even close to being calm yet.

"This is absolutely wonderful," he murmured softly, brushing another kiss, deeper than the last, against her trembling lips.

"You don't need to be worried," he murmured against her forehead, "and I am a completely thrilled son of a Sith."

He didn't let her get out a retort about his severely lacking creativity before pressing his lips to hers with utter abandon, claiming them with more self-assurance than she had ever felt from him before. When they parted several deliciously long moments later, Jag wore a silly grin. She had never seen that expression on his face before, and found herself quite entranced by how devastatingly handsome it was.

"So you're happy?"

"That would be an understatement, love."

"Oh?"

He swooped down and pressed his lips to hers again, languidly, before easing away. The silly grin was still in place. "You're stuck with me now."

"I wasn't when I married you?"

"Not like this," he murmured against her ear, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her flush against him.

"Jagged Fel!" She said, annoyed as she tried to pull away from him but wasn't allowed, "This better not be some human male bravado about a woman being yours because she's having your child."

He grinned.

She wanted to smack him. "_Jag_!"

"Jaina, love, you were _always_ mine, whether you deigned to admit it or not. Now there's just..._extra incentive_ to admit i-OW!"

"If you don't watch what you say, Fel, I'm going to make you tell my father. _Alone_."

He smirked, and suddenly Jaina was wary. That was the biggest threat she had, even if she would never follow through.

"Your father won't mind," he said, his voice low and bordering on husky as he bent to give her another kiss. Annoyed, she turned her head and he missed, but seemed just as happy to settle for her neck. He trailed kisses up to her ear and she firmly reminded herself that she was mad at him. "He wants a little baby to play with, and Allana's getting to that difficult age, you know..."

"Damn Jacen for breaking him in, first," she muttered darkly, still fighting a loosing battle to keep herself from melting into her husband.

But then he nipped gently at that spot just behind her right ear, and she knew she lost. And he knew it too, the nerf-herder.

"Let's go celebrate, love."

Admitting defeat, she nodded.


	6. Baby Blues

**Title:** Baby Blues  
**Time:** who knows in EU, but I'm putting it around 40ABY

*****

Jaina sucked in a deep breath as she entered the apartment. To say that it had been a long day would be an understatement. And now that she had the rest of the evening to herself, she intended to spend it with her husband and daughter.

Or, better yet, alone in her bed but knowing that her daughter was happy with her husband.

Yes, that sounded much more relaxing, to be perfectly honest.

But she had already registered that they didn't seem to be around. Neilla's favorite toys weren't scattered about the living room, Jag wasn't on the comm, and the lights were at their lowest setting.

Confused, but not yet concerned, Jaina made her way to the bedroom and promptly stopped in the doorway.

She felt a broad smile spread itself across her face in response to the sight that greeted her.

Her husband - who somehow managed to look simultaneously sweet and sexy - was leaning against their headboard with Neilla laying on his chest. Both were fast asleep and, now that she bothered to extend her senses, were radiating contentment and relaxation through the Force. Deciding that this aura was ideal to lull her to sleep as well, Jaina quickly changed into an old sleep shirt and made to cuddle up under Jag's free arm.

She froze, though, when an eye cracked open and trained itself on her.

"Sorry," she whispered, blushing slightly. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't," he murmured, "I was waiting."

Taking that as her cue to climb into bed, she settled into the spot she had been eying from the door. "How long has she been asleep?"

"About an hour, not long. I think she was trying to hold out for you to come home."

Jaina sighed. These late nights had been all too common recently, and missing the bedtime ritual was starting to get on her nerves. But finding that her five-month-old actually missed her only made it worse. She had been hoping that Neilla was oblivious to her absence. In retrospect, she should have expected higher awareness from a Force-sensitive child.

"It's alright, love," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "She likes me too, you know."

"I know. I just wish I had more time with her right now."

Jag was silent, as she expected him to be. She knew that he wasn't about to breach the subject that they had discussed so many times during her pregnancy, and she wasn't in the mood to push it either. She was really only in the mood to curl up against Jag and be content that her family was sleeping safely in bed. And she felt blessed, truly, that their baby was with them rather than with a surrogate parent on a faraway safe-world. But the old saying was true - you give a sentient a centimeter, and they take a meter. She had Neilla with her but wanted to see her more often. There was no helping that.

Jaina took a deep breath, stopping it before it turned into another sigh. Gently she reached over to play with Neilla's tuft of black hair, and brushed a tender kiss over her baby's forehead.

"When did you feed her?"

"2200," he reassured. "And I gave her the extra two ounces that the doctor prescribed."

She nodded. "Thank you."

They were silent for a time before Jag spoke, a smile evident in his voice.

"She smiled at me today."

"Really?"

"Mmm. I never thought I'd find a toothless smile beautiful, but there's a first time for everything, I suppose."

Jaina checked her laugh so that she wouldn't wake Neilla. "Oh? So I'd never have caught you if it hadn't been for my impeccable dental hygiene?"

"Nope."

"Good to know that I can just stop brushing if I get bored with you. Moff Ginntsi has been looking rather good latel-" She broke off with a grin when Jag pinched her in annoyance. "You don't like that plan?"

"Negative."

"What's yours, then?"

"You stay right here with me."

"Interesting. It has the virtue of simplicity."

"Indeed."

She smiled and pressed her lips gently to his. "So does sleep."

"That it does."

"I suggest we make that our primary mission objective."

"Before Neilla wakes up again?"

"You said you fed her and put her to sleep at 2200?"

"Yes."

"Then we've still got two hours of sleep."

Jag checked the wall chrono. "One and a half, love."

"I'm trying to be optimistic."

"One hour and twenty-nine minutes, optimist."

Jaina rolled her eyes. An utterly useless gesture as her head was on his chest and he couldn't see her.

"Goodnight, pessimist," she deadpanned.

"Goodnight, love."


	7. Eggs  Gukked and Otherwise

*****  
Title: Eggs - Gukked and Otherwise  
Time: In the timeline that I've created so far in this thread, this little snippet would be about 42ABY

*****  
Oh, he was going to pay for this.

That was certain.

What was uncertain was how, exactly, she was going to make him pay.

She couldn't quite decide. Use him as a punching bag? Throttle him with the Force, Vader-style? Practice some precision work with her lightsaber?

Or perhaps merely sentencing him to a week on the couch?

Honestly, that was a much more intelligent reaction to this crime. That way, the next time she had a craving for the gukked eggs from Helio's, she could be sure that he wouldn't get her the gukked eggs from Weyn's. Because the smell of Weyn's gukked eggs were making her nauseous, but their unborn child was demanding gukked eggs, so now she was going to have to waddle her very pregnant self down to Helio's to get the right gukked eggs.

Kriffing husbands. They always became utterly useless once they got a woman pregnant. As if it wasn't bad enough that he was getting ridiculously overprotective and making her work from home, now he was letting his aides get her the wrong food.

But Jaina was nothing if not pragmatic, even in her swollen and hormonally whacked form, and so she would fix the problem. First, she would waddle her way to Helio's, and eat her gukked eggs. Then, once she had imbibed the strength of said gukked eggs, she would march down to her wretched husband's office and teach him a thing or two about sending an aide to get her a craving, and then allowing said aide to get her craving wrong.

Yes, that was an excellent plan.

So she grabbed her bag from the side table, swinging its long strap over her shoulder as she commanded the lights down and left the apartment.

People left her alone on the walk to the restaurant. She was unsure whether it was because she was Jaina Solo wife of the soon to be emperor, or because she was currently Jaina Solo angry and hungry pregnant woman. Either way, people gave her an unusually wide berth. And she had to assume it was the latter once she actually got to Helio's, because the teenage boy behind the counter was working quickly and quietly, not daring his usual flirtatious banter.

She ate her eggs on the way to the Jag's office, not wanting to waste time. Justice would be swift.

Into the overly ostentatious building and up through the increasingly ostentatious floors, Jaina pondered her options for retribution. Causing him physical harm no longer seemed to be an absolute necessity when compared to the small aches and pains caused from hauling his developing child two full blocks to get her gukked eggs. No, revenge would not be harmful at all.

But it would be sweet.

She burst into the outer office in a huff merely for show, her previous murderous rampage having been downgraded to annoyance. The desk attendant looked up quickly, processed her mood and decided to buzz her in before she could lay into him for being slow. Unhindered by any more security-coded doors - not that they were much of a hindrance anyway, she knew all the codes - she stormed dramatically into his office.

He dared to look up with an amused smile. No doubt someone from security had the mercy to inform him that his angry, pregnant wife was on the premises.

"Hello, beautiful. Take a seat."

"Take a seat? _Take a seat?_" She huffed, continuing with her little show, "Yes, Jagged, I will in fact _take a seat_, you know why?"

He had the sense not to answer, but the amused expression hadn't left his face. She was rather annoyed at that. This was their second child and, somewhere along the way, he had stopped being bothered by her mood swings. She had liked having him scrambling to please her, now he just waited out the storm with that stupid little smirk of his.

"Because I just had to walk _two_ Coruscanti blocks to Helio's to get my gukked eggs, because _someone_ got me gukked eggs from Weyn's when I specifically asked for Helio's because Weyn's makes me nauseous! You know that, Jag!"

"My apologies," he said. To his credit he managed to say it without bursting into laughter, which she could tell he was dangerously close to doing. "So, after you walked two Coruscanti blocks from our place to Helio's for the proper gukked eggs, you walked another five blocks here to yell at me for it?"

"Obviously. I'm standing here, aren't I?"

He let a small chuckle slip, but reigned the rest in. "How awful. What can I do to make up for this unfortunate incident?"

She flopped onto the couch at the far side of the room. "You're going to give me a foot massage. Two, actually, I have two aching feet, you know."

Jag smiled and shook his head, crossing the room to sit by her feet. He started pulling off boots and socks. "You realize this isn't my fault, don't you?"

"Maybe. Doesn't change the fact that you're the only one allowed to touch my feet, and, like I explained, I am in need of a foot massage."

"Two, if I remember correctly."

"Good memory. I knew Uncle Luke made you Grand Moff for a reason."

He laughed outright at that, but she let it slide because the foot-rubbing had started.

Revenge was sweet indeed.

*****


	8. Grand Compromises

****  
Title: Grand Compromises  
Time: 43 ABY

****  
Jag had thought that packing his two bundles of joy into the car was a challenge. Between baby bags, favorite toys, and emergency locators - not to mention the girls themselves - it had been a handful. Several, actually, but Jaina had been there to help. Unfortunately, he now had to get all of these things out of the speeder on his own, in addition to the sleeping girls, because Jaina was still at home getting ready for the evening. She had decided that his preparations were much easier and that, therefore, he would be tasked with delivering the girls to their grandfathers.

He had not been allowed to argue the point.

Because, theoretically, he was delivering the girls to only one grandfather, which should have been an easy task. But in reality, the other grandfather was bound to be there, exponentially increasing the difficulty of said task by a factor of fourteen. He had calculated.

Having finally decided that there was no way around it and that he would have to comm Han for Threepio's help in order to let the girls finish their nap - after all, with two overzealous and age-defying grandfathers awaiting them he had to make sure his daughters were well-rested - Jag pulled his comm-link.

"Han?"

"Solo, here. Are you running late with my girls?"

Jag nearly laughed at the impossibility. He had publicly courted and married Han Solo's only daughter, but even he didn't dare make the girls late for a play-date with their grandfather.

"Of course not." He could practically feel Han's satisfied smirk on the other end of the line. "But I do need help with the five bags that Jaina deemed absolutely necessary."

"Yeah, about that," Han drawled, "Why not just buy another set of things and have them stay here?"

"Because buying three of the same thing is a waste of money."

"You're the Grand Moff. I'm sure you can figure it out, kid."

He very nearly rolled his eyes at Han's tone. "You fight it out with Jaina, then. I've tried to talk reason into her enough times."

Han snorted. "I'm not that stupid."

"Neither am I."

"Anymore."

"Anymore," Jag agreed. "So are you going to send Threepio or am I going to have to find a service droid?"

"Already sent him. He should be there in-"

"Master Fel! So nice to see you again! I must say, Mistresses Neilla and Saleya are growing rather quickly, aren't they-"

"Thanks for the warning," Jag nearly hissed into the comm.

"You're welcome." There was no contrition in his voice. "And what the hell do you think you're doing here, Fel?"

"Bringing you your grandaughters?"

"No, not you kid," Han muttered distractedly into the comlink. Ah, so his father had arrived, as expected.

"Right. See you in a few minutes," Jag said, leaving the crazy old men to their argument. Thumbing off his comlink, he wordlessly directed Threepio to the bags. He found that if he didn't try to talk to the droid, it was easier to ignore his ramblings.

Gently, he pulled Neilla and Saleya into his arms and strode to the lift, fully aware of how vain it was to hope that Han and his father would have their little spat settled by the time he arrived at the Solos' door.

Upon arrival at the apartment, he reflected on how he would really rather be wrong sometimes. It might be a pleasant surprise in a situation like this.

"I call Neilla!"

"You only want her because she's 'fresher-trained. _I_call Neilla."

"Still coming in second, old man. I said it first."

"Not this time Sol-"

"Father!"

"Fel!" Han yelled enthusiastically in Jag's support. That was, until Jag sent him a stern glare as well. He was rather amused to find that the result was the two decorated generals looking down and shuffling their feet. He had almost expected to find blasters pointed at his face.

Although he quickly realized that neither man was willing to pull a blaster with the newly wakened children present. Which gave him a definite advantage.

"I know we can all agree that _both_of my princesses are the most precious beings in the galaxy, 'fresher-trained or not."

They murmured their assent, still shuffling slightly and not daring to look up.

"Now, Father," Jag announced, readjusting the now squirming girls in his arms, "You weren't supposed to be here, and Neilla was looking forward to playing with Han. So you'll have primary responsibility for watching Saleya."

Han let out a victorious snort.

"And next time Han arrives to crash your turn, Father," he said sternly, eyes now trained on Han, "You get to play with Neilla and he gets Saleya."

He watched with amusement as Soontir threw an elbow at Han, and wondered if he should be leaving his daughters with these children.

But then he remembered Jaina's explicit order that he give each girl three cookies before their nap, and fought back a wicked grin.

He would have to thank her for her foresight later.


	9. Unparalleled Cruelty

****  
Title: Unparalleled Cruelty  
Time: 43ABY

****  
His love was cruel.

He had always known this. But knowing did not change it or teach him how to deal with it.

She was cruel to him, it was a simple fact.

Her current method of torture came in the form of an evening gown - a shimmering navy number, backless and very nearly frontless as well, composed almost entirely of lace and he couldn't for the life of him comprehend how it was clinging to her body. He had run his hand down her back several times, an excuse to check for a transparent layer of fabric holding it all together, but found nothing. He was about to concede that it was held up by sheer will of the designer, that it might fall at any time, and that he should, therefore, be prepared to throw his jacket around her shoulders at any moment.

Not that he wouldn't enjoy the view himself - in fact, he had every intention of fully enjoying the view in private - but there were _Moffs_ here. Most of them lewd old men.

And Jaina was a very attractive young woman.

Which brought him back to how cruel she was.

This was the most revealing dress he had seen her in for years, and the stuffiest event that he had been obliged to attend in as much time. This was, to put it simply, torture.

He held back another urge to run his hand over her porcelain skin. To ease the resulting ache in his hand, he allowed it to rest at the small of her back. She turned from her conversation to flash him a smile.

Hoping beyond hope that he had managed a polite smile back, Jag attempted to beat back the fantasies that were beginning to circle through his head. Most of them seemed to revolve around finding out how her dress stayed on and, more importantly, how he was going to get it off.

Relieved though he was at Jaina's apparent proficiency in diplomacy this evening, Jag was sure that some portion of his mind was still cataloging all the conversations swirling around him and keeping up polite conversation with the emissary from Lebica.

But the larger portion was...otherwise engaged. And had spotted a rather secluded alcove across the room.

Under the pretense of seeing Leia at the other end of the hall, Jag managed a polite but brief disengagement from the Lebican emissary and an escape to the alcove. Where he wasted no time testing his theories about the structure of the dress and simply put his mouth on the closest bit of creamy skin that he could find. It turned out to be a collarbone and elicited a soft moan.

She sighed his name into his ear as he ghosted his lips over her shoulders. Nimble fingers were running expertly through his cropped hair and sending shivers down his spine, his lips had latched themselves to her pulse point and sucked greedily, responding reflexively to her soft whimpers.

"Jag," she murmured softly. Then, more insistently, "_Jag_!"

"Mmmm?" He managed against her skin. Seconds later his lips were unceremoniously detached from their happy resting place with a wet plop.

She laughed at his wounded expression. "You were starting to leave a mark. Not the time or place, you realize."

He very nearly allowed his features to slip into a pout. "How much longer do we have to be here?"

"According to the dictates of politeness and the political correctness expected of the Grand Moff?" Jaina asked, pulling up his wrist to check the chrono, "Another two hours."

Groaning, Jag pressed his forehead against hers and pushed her back into the wall of the alcove. "One more kiss to pass the time?"

"Sure flyboy," she winked and grabbed his hand, leading him back into open space. "When we get home. Now you mentioned something about saying hello to my mother..."

Jag groaned. He was in love with an excessively cruel woman.

****


	10. Unwanted Opinions

Hello everyone :)

This was meant to be chapter 10, but I accidentally put it up before chapter 9 yesterday. Proper chapter 9 is now up, as well as this chapter. I hope you enjoy!

xxxxx

"I still say that, as a couple, they look _hot_," came the deep voice from the vidwall.

In Jaina's opinion he was over-styled, but she had developed a bit of a soft spot for him. He was vehemently arguing that Jag was delectable in whatever he wore - an opinion that Jaina supported whole-heartedly.

And so she had dubbed him Good Guy.

"Oh, pish-tosh," said a nasaly female voice. Jaina affectionately called her Annoying Kriff. "He should have at least worn a thinner tie. I mean really, isn't he about to become King of the Universe or something? Surely he-"

"He has my vote for Mr. Universe, that's for sure," Good Guy broke in, halting Annoying Kriff's rant and drawing cheers from the audience.

"Look at Jaina Solo," Annoying Kriff insisted as if there had been no interruption. "She's looking stunning and modern next to him in a navy Jari'kyn, and he looks like he pulled that suit out from ten years ago!"

"Jaina Solo _is_ looking fabulous here," a third woman, a purple Twilek, agreed. Jaina had yet to form an opinion or nickname her. Mainly because the Twilek had yet to either support or attack Jag. "That Jari'kyn gown was made entirely of Alderanean lace, and navy is the _it_color right now-"

"Not to mention a wonderful compliment to that beautiful, creamy complexion," Good Guy added, nodding his approval.

"It's no red on her, that's for sure," Annoying Kriff said, "but it is lovely, I agree."

Jaina rolled her eyes and popped another vweila nut into her mouth, considering whether or not Annoying Kriff was a good enough reason to change the channel.

"She was probably trying to make sure the Grand Moff could wait until they got home!" The Twilek laughed, drawing more hoots and cheers from the audience.

Jaina smirked to herself.

They had _not_managed to wait until they got home.

In fact, they were lucky that most of that precious Alderanean lace was still in tact. She would have to find a way to fix it before sending it back to the designer with her thanks-

"Oh, hush!" The Twilek's loud admonishment brought Jaina's attention back to the show. "I would melt for Jagged Fel in that suit-"

"I'd melt for him anytime," Jaina reprimanded the screen.

"-and I might even let Jaina in on the fun if Fel wa-"

"Balique!" Good Guy broke in, scandalized.

"Yeah, you tell'er!" Jaina huffed. Lecherous little Twilek-

"What? Don't tell me you don't want to do the same, Navll," she defended herself.

Good Guy laughed. "Maybe. But I think he's pretty well guarded by Jaina Solo's lightsaber."

"Good for you, Navll!" Annoying Kriff patted him on the back, "He's not worth it, especially not in that awful tie-"

Jaina flipped the vidwall off. She'd finished her snack and had enough of their nonsense. Jag looked good in any suit, end of discussion.

Well, maybe not _end_ of discussion, he certainly looked good out of any suit too - but she'd be damned if she let that Twilek know.


	11. Spirit Day Treats

****  
Title: Spirit Day Treats  
Time: 44ABY

Jag took one final lunge toward the fleeing bundle of pink tulle, grabbing it with both hands and tucking it under his chest as he executed a side roll. Sighing, he came to a stop in the sitting position, his youngest daughter on his lap.

Her arms were crossed.

"Mama don't hafta wear pink, and Saleya don't wanna wear pink," she pouted, her adorable little lips puckering in unhappiness.

"But you wanted to wear pink when you picked the dress, remember?" Jag reminded her, knowing that it was useless. At the ripe old age of two, Saleya was liable to change her likes and dislikes within a matter of minutes.

And it had been several days, meaning she had decided to like and dislike her new pink dress a minimum of twenty times. It was just his luck that she disliked it at the particular moment that he needed to get her _into_ it.

"Saleya _hates _pink, Daddy. Dress is icky," she muttered, her lips still pursed into an adorable pout. He found himself fighting back a smile. Of his two daughters, Saleya had inherited her mother's plump pink lips and big brown eyes, and Jag imagined that he was looking at Jaina's old holos.

The current aversion to pink only helped the illusion along.

"But Leya," her sister explained, her voice infused with all the wisdom of her four years, "they give you candy if you wear it."

Jag kept his face carefully neutral, despite his desperate desire to laugh at Saleya's sudden attention. She had become quite interested in her sister's large, fluffy dress, and seemed to believe that Neilla had to be wearing it for a good reason.

"Give Saleya candy?" She repeated for certainty. Clearly she was beginning to reevaluate the situation.

Neilla nodded enthusiastically and swung her arms wide for emphasis. "Lots and lots of candy."

"But only if you put on your Spirit Day costume," Jag reminded, holding out the fluffy skirt for her to step into.

She debated a bit longer, eyes darting quickly between her own skirt, Neilla's yellow one, and Jag. Finally, she turned to face her sister.

"Candy?" She asked again, hands on her hips and pout still in place.

"Candy," Neilla promised.

Trusting her sister, Saleya turned back to Jag and stepped gingerly into her skirt.

He managed to keep his victorious grin off his face as he surveyed his two daughters and their princess costumes. Saleya was clearly still unhappy with the color of her fluffiness, but, aside from the remains of her pout, Jag thought they were the most adorable little girls with which he could have been blessed.

And as they toured their complex, Jag couldn't help but think that seeing them dressed up occasionally was a treat. Especially as Saleya was becoming happier as her basket filled with candy. Of course, they wouldn't get to eat any of it. He already planned to confiscate it upon arrival at home and send it straight to the incinerator. They were visiting the homes of _Moffs_ for Force's sake, and he trusted all of them to attempt to poison his daughters.

To avoid serious repercussions, the girls would be compensated with a bag of their favorite candies, already prepared and waiting for them.

Of course, Saleya started to make a fuss when he took her candies away, but it was all resolved when she found that her new bag was filled with droid pops. Neilla couldn't be bothered to fuss because she knew that she would get a bag bursting with gummy wookies in exchange.

Jag suspected that she would become the practical one. She already knew how to bargain with her parents and manipulate her sister so that she could get what she wanted. In fact, at that precise moment she was convincing Saleya to trade her a droid pop by overemphasizing the deliciousness of her gummy wookies.

He rolled his eyes. As long as there was no crying involved, it was fine by him.

Just as he had gotten around to flipping on the vidscreen, he heard the door cycle open and his daughters squealed.

"Mommy!"

He turned to find that Jaina already had both girls in her arms and was scrutinizing their handfuls of candy. "Where did you get those?"

"Daddy gave them to us," Neilla volunteered cheerfully.

"Look mommy, droid pops!" Saleya added, happily waving her half-eaten lolipop for her mother's inspection. But Jaina was busy spearing him with a look and didn't notice.

"I thought we said no candy this year?"

"Say that again when you're the one who has to take their candy from them," he answered, waving to the trash chute. "Don't worry, these are clean, bought them myself."

She surveyed him for a moment before seeming to concede his point. "Alright girls, only one more tonight and then bed."

"Oh, but-"

"Mooommmmyyyyy!"

"You two have school tomorrow, no argument."

They sulked slightly as she put them back on their feet, but moments later Jag knew they had already forgotten their annoyance. Sighing, Jaina collapsed onto the couch next to him.

"Long day?"

"Always," she muttered. "But I have more interesting news."

He raised a brow, analyzing the way she attempted to control her grin. She was unsuccessful, her lips were turning up at the corners and he could see excitement in her eyes. "Oh?"

She took his hand and pressed it to her belly, letting her smirk blossom into an all-out grin.

"_Oh_," he mumbled, understanding. Then he was grinning too. "Already?"

"You're surprised? You were never one to waste time, Jag."

"Well, no, but...it's so soon," he answered. "We've only just started to try again-"

"Do or do not, there is no try," she chided, a teasing lilt to her voice.

"I'm not a Jedi, love."

"You could be," she snorted, "I haven't met a Jedi who embodies that little platitude more than you do."

"That's because success is a matter of determination, not ability."

"Right," she laughed. "Well, you've been successful three times, flyboy, and I'd prefer you leave it at that, if you don't mind."

His face fell. "You don't want another one?"

"Oh I _want_ another ten. But why don't you try giving birth to them?"

"Right, sorry," he muttered, glancing at the girls playing on the floor. Getting those two certainly hadn't been easy.

Pressure on his chin tilted his eyes up. "I have more news that I think you'll like," she told him, smiling as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his lap. "I _think_ this one's a boy."

He sat in silence for a moment, surveying her face. "Are you sure?"

"No, just a feeling."

He laughed. "So you're absolutely sure, then." He squeezed her tightly, grinning into her shoulder. He loved his daughters more than life itself, but he couldn't deny that he wanted a son.

"I knew you'd like this news," she answered, a smile evident in her voice as she squeezed him back. Suddenly she pulled back from him. "And since he's a boy, you'll have to change more of the diapers." 


	12. Negotiations

Title: Negotiations  
Time: sometime after 44ABY

Jag looked at her dubiously.

She just grinned. "Come on, flyboy, don't tell me you're scared you'll lose."

He shook his head. "Fear has nothing to do with it. I'm just not stupid enough to match my aging joints to a younger Jedi's."

"I'm barely two years younger than you," she pointed out. "And I'm perfectly aware that you're still in decent shape - I see you naked on a regular basis, you know."

He smirked, satisfied in the truth of the statement, but didn't fall into her little trap. "You're still a Jedi, and that means you have the Force to ease those little aches and pains. Me, on the other hand..."

"Alright, how about I make you a deal?"

"I don't make deals with the devil, sorry love."

She snorted. "I'm the devil now, am I?"

"You're trying to maneuver me into sparring with you when you know full well that it can't end well for me. You won't tell me why you want _me_when you have a squad of the Imperial Knights at your disposal, not to mention Kyp, who is getting rather annoyed that he's just sitting around day after day. And you look excellent in red. Therefore I can call you the devil if I please."

In all honesty, he knew why she wanted him. Jag had learned years ago that - aside from her general proclivity for exercise - it tended to get her excited. And though he was all in favor of his gorgeous wife in such a state, he'd rather the beating was taken by someone else. It was, if nothing else, a practical desire.

A mischievous smile lit her face. "Maybe I think you need some exercise."

"You just said that I'm still in perfect shape."

"I said _decent_shape," she teased. Then her voice turned wheedling. "Come on, whoever wins gets to be on top later."

"Whoever wins _will_be on top, regardless," he pointed out. "And if that's the purpose of the match, I'd much rather skip the sparring mat and fight it out on our lovely mattress instead. Less opportunities for you to give me a black eye, you understand."

"That was an accident. You never told me you had a press conference the next day."

"I have a press conference _every_day."

"You're no fun."

"You love me regardless."

She let out a huff, pretending to be annoyed as he turned his attention back to the flimsies on his desk. He didn't really need to get through them all now, but it would at least show Jaina that he was busy. Maybe then she would give in and go beat up Kyp.

"I'll let you use one of the training sabers," she offered, clearly hoping he had forgotten what those felt like.

Right. Like he could forget that.

"Absolutely not."

Letting out a remorseful sigh that sounded a touch too practiced, she turned to go. "Alright then, I suppose I'll just go look for the crypt-keeper."

"That's no way to refer to a life-long friend."

"It is when he's old."

"Kyp Durron is hardly fifteen years older than us. I highly suggest you rethink calling him 'old.'"

"Whether I call him old or not, he's still not going to give me a good work-out."

"And what makes you think I can?"

Her eyes sparkled. "You usually manage."

Putting down his pen, Jag leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath as he appraised her. Sitting on the corner of his desk, her legs crossed, leaning forward just enough to tempt him, and wearing her most hopeful bantha-cub eyes - the devil, indeed. She had once again maneuvered him into saying yes against his better judgement.

"Absolutely _no_weapons. Hand combat only."

She nodded, satisfied.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," he muttered to himself as he got up from the chair.

Her grin certainly didn't make him feel any better. "Hey, it's me."

"I know."


	13. Battered

"Daddy! Saleya's stirring wrong!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!" Neilla shrieked, whipping her own whisk from the ryshcate batter to emphasize her point and spraying the counter top, himself, and Saleya in the process. Jag silently cursed Jaina's tendency to talk with her hands and Neilla's penchant for imitating her mother. He would have to change them all into new clothes now if he wanted Jaina to think he could handle his own two daughters.

Nevertheless, it was a good time to intervene, if he wanted to keep a semblance of calm between them. They were as stubborn as their mother and, if he was being truly honest with himself, as self-assured of their perpetual correctness as he was. It usually led to rather heated conversations between them, to say the least.

"Girls-"

"Grandma Syal say _this _way!" Saleya insisted, jabbing her whisk into the bowl as a defiant demonstration of what she believed to be the correct manner of whisking the batter.

"No," Neilla insisted with equal determination, and proceeded to demonstrate her method. "_This _way-"

"NO!"

Though he refused to let it show, Jag cringed internally. Aside from being certain that he had just lost the upper decibel of hearing range - which, with two young daughters, he was beginning to consider a blessing - that tone from Saleya usually meant a Force-tantrum.

And Jaina was scheduled to be gone for another hour, yet.

"_Saleya_," Jag warned, trying to inject both command and soothing tones into his voice despite the copious amount of batter that was beginning to rise, unaided by any whisk, from the bowl. "Neilla, you two are going to play nice or you won't get any ryshcate tonight."

In the next moment, he found himself half-blinded by the batter that went flying about the room.

Apparently, the prospect of losing ryshcate was not a soothing one. In retrospect, he should have known better.

Because sometimes, Force-aided throws were a very bad thing.

Everything in the room was covered in batter to some degree, with Neilla, Saleya, and himself taking the brunt of the explosion. Fortunately, Saleya appeared to have put all her frustrations into the one throw and was now calmly sitting in his lap, and Neilla was too busy licking batter off her cheeks and fingers to remember to be upset.

So that only left the cleaning up to do.

A half hour later, he had washed, changed, and put both girls to bed. Looking down at himself, he realized that his own shirt was a lost cause so he tossed it into the hamper.

Then he braved the kitchen.

The counter and nearby cabinets were splattered with ryshcate batter, but everything else had been out of Saleya's reach. Thanking the Force for small favors, Jag set to work.

He was nearly done when the door cycled open and footsteps padded down the hall. They came to a stop next to him, and he sensed her surveying the room.

"What happened to you?"

"We were making ryshcate," Jag answered sullenly, studiously scrubbing the mess from the counter.

"How did it turn out?" She asked, far too innocently.

He turned his head slowly to face her. She was smirking, just as he suspected.

Finished with the troublesome spot, Jag slid the nearly empty bowl toward her, then turned and leaned against the counter. "This is what I get for trying to be less militaristic than my father."

"It is," she agreed, still smirking. "But _my _father would have considered this an overwhelming success."

"Your father had three force-sensitive children to deal with," he pointed out mostly to himself, mulling over the fact that even Han Solo wasn't always a match for mischievous children who had the Force as a resource.

"True. You are pretty pathetic for letting this happen with only two," she teased, running a finger through the batter left in the bowl and plopping it into her mouth. Something about the way she sucked her finger clean was slowly heightening his awareness of how plump her lips were. How they must taste of ryshcate.

And he _had _set his heart on ryshcate tonight, even if it wasn't in baked form.

In fact, he'd always preferred the batter.

"Thank you," he deadpanned, trying not to let the anticipatory tingling in his limbs show. "I feel so much better now."

"Well that was easy. And here I was busy thinking of other ways to help you feel better," she teased. With a wink, Jaina turned and disappeared into their bedroom.

He had half a moment to debate whether she wanted to be followed when her tunic, defying gravity and all laws of physics, flew from their room into his hands.

He grinned, grabbing the bowl and following her into the bedroom.

Because sometimes, Force-aided throws were a _very_ good thing.


	14. Restless

Hello! Sorry the update has taken so long and that I didn't get around to replies last chapter! It's been a crazy month. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy :)

****  
Title: Restless  
Time: 48ABY

He had forgotten that it was a luxury to have her sleeping next to him.

In the years since they had finally worked out their relationship, he hadn't once slept without her in his arms. Not even when she was mad at him. To his delight - and profound relief - Jaina subscribed to the belief that a good cuddle was better to relieve anger than sentencing him to a night on the couch.

Unfortunately it made tonight a first in their marriage. He had forgotten the hollow ache that always descended on his chest.

So he pulled his baby boy closer to him in an effort to relieve the loneliness. Jaina wouldn't be happy when she got home. At three years old, she wanted Javin to be sleeping in his own bed.

He certainly wasn't. Every night that he could, Javin managed to wiggle into his parents' bed and fall asleep against his mother. In her absence, he had squashed himself against his father.

Normally, Jag was secretly peeved that Jaina was occupied cuddling with someone else. Tonight, however, he was grateful for his son's tendency to sleep in their bed, and even more grateful that he had chosen to bestow his affections on his father. It might have been childish, but Jag didn't want to sleep alone either.

He found himself unable to resist tousling the boy's hair, then promptly sighed at how similar it felt to Jaina's silky locks. He would certainly be in trouble when she found out that Javin hadn't spent any portion of the night in his own bed, but Jag simply hadn't been able to resist his son's small round face or pleading eyes. Or when those eyes had watered and Javin said that he wanted to sleep in their bed because he could _feel_Jaina better in this room.

They had never had these problems with the girls. And for Jag, who would never have thought to go sleep in his parents' bed, this was uncharted territory. Jaina, however, knew perfectly well what to do with Javin and would sternly send him to his own bed every evening. Inevitably the boy would find his way back into their room, and she would allow him to cuddle with her until morning.

But tonight, Jag had brought his son to their bed from the beginning and it had been hours since Javin had fallen asleep. Jag had not been so lucky, and was still wishing that his wife hadn't taken that trip, even if it was only a week. She could easily have sent her second in command, Jusef Khan, on the assignment.

It was a simple assignment, that was true, but he still worried because, well, she was _Jaina_. And a Solo to boot. She had gone with barely enough stormtroopers to make up a full squad, even if they were hand-picked. Jag was more concerned than the situation truly warranted, and he knew that, yet he was still considering making her his full-time personal guard as soon as she returned. He'd have to come up with another title, of course, as she would never give in to the rumors and announce herself his personal Jedi guard. But there was plenty of time to come up with something. The important thing was that she never left his side again for longer than a trip to the fresher.

He glanced at the bedside chrono and promptly wished he hadn't.

0504.

Barely an hour before he had to be up for the day. There was no point in trying to sleep now.

He gave Javin a soft squeeze and gently kissed his forehead before slipping out into the hall. For a moment, he let himself entertain the fanciful notion that he might find Jaina in the kitchen as she was every morning, with an extra cup of caf and a smile. Then he rounded the corner and let the hope vanish.

She wasn't there.

He knew that, but his heart had wished otherwise.

Rubbing a hand over his face, he sighed quietly to himself and set about preparing the pot of caf. At least all their children were here. Soon enough, Saleya would come wandering in asking for blue milk. Neilla would be along soon after with a request for Ackbar O's, which they allowed her despite all the nutritional deficiencies. Javin would sleep until noon unless someone - usually Jaina - did something about it.

Jag nursed the fresh cup of caf as he sat at the table. Soon enough, the children would fill the place with their chatter, it was true, but he still missed her.

The week couldn't end fast enough.


	15. Dreaded Dates

****  
Title: Dreaded Dates  
Time: about 55ABY-ish

Jag watched in silence as the boy across from him swallowed the lump in his throat.

Nervous.

It was the first sign that he might be a decent kid. Of course, it might just mean he was aware that his date was the Emperor's daughter, that he was taking her to the Emperor's Ball, and that the Emperor's Royal Guard could be ordered to pack him up and shoot him off to the farthest corner of the galaxy at the drop of a hat.

Or, more likely, if he so much as _touched_his date.

Well, Jag considered, if that was the track the boy's mind had taken, at least he was intelligent enough to realize the consequences of his actions. And anyways, Jag had braved the wrath of not only the entire New Republic Army but _Han Solo_in order to court Jaina. Asking a boy to behave himself at a political function was not so difficult in comparison.

The women in his life had disagreed. Ganged up on him, in fact, and he was under strict orders to 'not scare away Neilla's date.'

But at least he still had Javin on his side. He was no happier about his sister on her first date than Jag was, and, being only twelve, was unlikely to incur the wrath of the women to the extent that Jag would by interfering.

Not that Jag really needed his son to interfere. In addition to the twenty Royal Guards and nearly two-hundred ISS personnel who would be present at the event were Soontir Fel, Han Solo, and Jedi Grandmaster Skywalker. Of course, they were under pain of death to 'not scare away Neilla's date' as well, but the intimidation factor alone was likely to keep the boy in line. Force knew that during those early days on Borelias, he hadn't dared _visit_Jaina when Luke Skywalker was on planet.

And regardless, judging by the bead of sweat now racing down the boy's face, Neilla was unlikely to want him close to her. Or, at least, not _too_close.

So it was with annoyance but strong smugness that Jagged Fel, emperor of the reconstructed Empire, stood across from Neilla's unfortunate date. He certainly did not envy the boy, but it was still satisfying to watch him periodically wipe his sweaty palms on his pants. The streaks left behind were rather amusing.

"Hello, Loraq," Neilla said brightly from behind him. "Dad."

Jag did not turn, but carefully surveyed the boy's wide-eyed reaction to Neilla's appearance. "Hello, sweetheart," he answered, secretly breathing a sigh of relief. The boy was harmless, it was painstakingly clear now. "You've kept your date waiting."

"I know, I'm sorry," she answered, but not to him. She walked over to the boy - _Loraq_- and gave him a hug. Jag suppressed his shudder and settled for merely glaring at the boy, who quailed appropriately. Then, finally, his daughter turned to him. "Loraq will bring me back by 2300 hours."

Jag nodded. "Your brother will be waiting."

She had to try to resist the eye-roll, Jag could tell. But she wasn't her mother, so resist it she did. Then she blew him a kiss. "Bye, Dad."

The boy looked as though he had wanted to say something to him, but Neilla swept him out the door before he could remember how to use his mouth. Jag fervently hoped that his memory lapse dissipated. Neilla hated excessive talkers, and it was the easiest way to ensure that there would be no second date to worry about-

"Ahhh!" Jag cursed himself for jumping at the throat cleared behind him. He point blank _refused_to flush about the intimidating aura he had been purposely projecting. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to know that you did something you weren't supposed to, Emperor Fel."

Jag refused to acknowledge that anything was amiss. "And here I thought you were just trying to help me look intimidating for Neilla's date."

"That was an added bonus."

"Bonus? What were you doing back there, Jay?"

"Enjoying the view, of course" she answered, smirking.

Jag raised a brow in question.

"Did you know that you look good from _all_ angles?"


	16. Ubeatable Odds

Sorry for the long delay! Please enjoy!

xxxxx

Unbeatable Odds

~ 57 ABY

xxxxx

Jag rarely reflected on the power he held. Mainly for fear of losing his sanity. Because, as leader of the reconstructed Galactic Empire, Jagged Fel was an obscenely powerful man. He resolved potential wars and minor squabbles on a daily basis. He commanded the armies of nearly three thousand planets, and was supreme ruler of their politicians. He even had the power to unleash Imperial Knights onto his more troublesome Moffs.

Or rather, that power was theoretically his. Because really, all final decisions regarding the Imperial Knights were Jaina's - she had never given him any power over them and she never would. In fact, now that he considered it, each and every hole in his net of power came from Jaina and her family.

At that exact moment, for example, he found that he was powerless to make Han Solo shut up about the fact that he had dared kiss his own wife at a public function. Even if it had been an arguably ostentatious gesture to have her seated in his lap as he did so. Emperor Fel also didn't really have the power to have Neilla's young suitor packed up and sent off to the most remote corner of the galaxy simply because Neilla insisted on holding his hand.

The idea struck him very suddenly.

He was astounded that the thought hadn't come to him sooner. He was, after all, renowned as a master strategist.

He cleared his throat, hoping to stop his father-in-law's angry rant.

Ineffective. Jag supposed he deserved that. It had been nearly foolish optimism, after all.

Still, with no other options available, he could do nothing but clear it a little louder and punctuate it with a, "Han?"

"Shut it, flyboy, I'm trying to teach you a few things about respecting women," Han fired back, but Jag cut him off before he could continue.

"And I immensely appreciate your advice. I do think, however, that it would be better spent on Neilla's date."

Confusion, followed quickly by anger, flashed through Han's eyes. "Neilla has a _date_?"

"Leia didn't tell you?" Jag asked, but he could see from the genuine surprise on Han's face that he had not been informed. This plan was working out better than Jag could have hoped. At least until he had to clean up the rumor mill in the morning.

But, at the moment, his father-in-law was sufficiently distracted. "Point me in a direction, kid."

Silently, Jag obeyed, and Han was off at a truly remarkable pace for a man of his age. Only a moment later Jag couldn't spot him in the crowd.

Quite satisfied with this turn of events, he exchanged pleasantries with several politicians on his way back to his seat. There he found Jaina, who looked nearly as displeased as her father had, only moments ago.

Confident that he could rectify the situation, he wrapped and arm around her waist and pressed his lips to her neck.

She pushed him away, but he carried on. "Not to worry, love, your father is distracted for now."

She pushed again, quite a bit harder. He took the hint and sat back.

"Is something wrong?"

She glared. "I saw what you did."

Ah. So that was the problem. He admitted to himself that sending Han after them may have been toeing the line on 'not scaring away Neilla's date,' but Jag was perfectly capable of maintaining his sabacc face.

"I'll admit, I shouldn't have greeted the Lebican emissary so warmly after their latest-"

"You threw your daughter under the speeder."

"No, I threw _her date_ under the speeder. And really, it's not my fault that your father didn't even know she had one."

"Jag," she warned when he went for her neck again, "I will make an even bigger spectacle this evening by pulling out my lightsaber."

Sighing, but not quite ready to accept defeat, he slowly straightened. "My apologies, love. What can I do to fix the situation?"

"Go rescue them from my father. And probably yours, as well. I'm sure this would be the only instance that they could work together," she snorted, nodding across the hall to a shadowy alcove. A little concentration revealed that they were doing exactly that.

"Absolutely not."

He had expected an explosive retort, but instead she simply got up and began to walk away.

"Where are you going?"

"To my mother's."

"But, that dress..." Jag trailed off, allowing his face to fall slightly as she turned back to him. Just the thought of missing the opportunity to peel it off was heartbreaking.

"I'm someone's daughter too, you know," she pointed out.

"Yes, your father was quite keen on reminding me-"

"You can't have it both ways, Jagged Fel." And with that, she turned and walked away.

He had no doubt that she would be here for the rest of the night, watching to see if he would come to _that boy's_ rescue. But he simply couldn't do that.

Forced to accept defeat, he closed his eyes briefly.

Yes, Jagged Fel was an exceedingly powerful man. But somehow, when there were Solos involved, that simply didn't seem to matter.


	17. Realizations

*****  
**Title:** Realizations  
**Time**: 56 ABY

"What are you doing?"

Neilla sighed before meeting her father's gaze in the mirror. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm dying my hair."

"Black."

"Yeah, so?"

"So...your hair already is black."

"It _was_," she corrected, setting a timer on her chrono before turning to jump up onto the counter and wait.

"Is life as a princess really so stressful?" He joked, joining her on the counter.

"Yes," she answered honestly, and Jag did his best not to let the sting show on his face. "But that's not your fault. This is," she finished, pointing to her head. That was when he noticed that she wasn't so much dying her hair as she was dying one lock in the front.

"That doesn't make any sense," he muttered, mostly to himself.

"Umm," she answered, gesturing toward his own lock of white hair, "yeah it does, Dad."

"No, no," he said, waving her hand away, "You must have gotten it from me, but, I always assumed it was a result of the scar, not genetics."

She cocked her head to the side, considering him just like Jaina would. "Fair enough assumption, I guess. But I mean, you were around my age when you got your scar, Dad."

"Are you implying that it was coincidence?"

"I haven't split my face open on anything recently."

"_Recently_?"

"You know what I mean, Dad," came the annoyed answer as she crossed her arms and legs. Her foot started tapping the cabinet beneath her. "Although considering all the medical implications for randomly having a lock of white hair, maybe I should go carve my face up so that people don't think I'm-"

-"Absolutely not"-

"-crazy," she finished, laughing. "Relax, kidding."

"You better be."

She rolled her eyes. "Well at least-"

A shrill alarm cut her off and Neilla hopped off the counter to see to her hair. Jag left her to it and found Jaina in the kitchen.

"Did you know that our daughter dyes her hair?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't feel the need to tell me?"

"What is there to tell?" She asked, looking up from her screen.

Jag glanced down at it quickly. Nerf steaks for dinner. His stomach gave a sudden growl.

"She's a teenager dying her hair. Be glad it's a natural color. For the sake of PR, if nothing else."

He couldn't argue with that. An aqua-haired princess would be a nightmare for the image of the royal family.

"Well," he muttered after a few thoughtful moments, "at least now I know she's mine.'

Jaina's eyes nearly sent daggers through his skull. "WHAT?"

" Well otherwise she looks just like you, thank the Force."

She considered this for a moment, and her eyes softened slightly from murder-mode. "She has your coloring."

"Small comfort, considering my competitors."

Fortunately, she didn't pull a knife from the drawer. Unfortunately, she smacked him.

"She's just so beautiful that I wonder sometimes," Jag amended, hoping that would fix the situation promptly.

Jaina's brow arched in surprise. "All these years and you're still not aware of how _sexy_ you are?" Then her eyes took on a predatory gleam and a finger trailed down his chest. "I could show you, if you need convincing."

"I'm perfectly aware of how desirable I am, thank you," he teased, catching her hand as she pulled away and placing it back on his chest. "But, beautiful as our daughter is, I am certainly not ready to think that anyone is considering her s-se-"

She laughed as he choked on the word. "Fair enough, she's only fifteen. You didn't meet me until I was sixteen."

"Exactl-wait, no," Jag frowned, "no no no no no."

Jaina laughed again, knowing what was coming.

"This isn't funny."

"Yes, it is,' she answered, still giggling, but felt slightly sorry for him when she saw how truly stricken he was by the prospect. Still, she couldn't resist teasing him. "Why Jagged Fel, are you saying that you were following something other than your heart when you first spoke to me on Ithor?"

"Jaina,' he warned, reaching for his comm. For the first time, he was glad to be emperor. The job turned out to be good for _something_ after all.

"Relax, Jag. Worse comes to worst, your daughter is quite skilled with a lightsaber."

He jumped. 'WHAT?'

"In the most literal sense, of course."

Jag took a deep breath before turning his attention back to his comm. His wife was, in his opinion, far too amused by this situation. "Of course."

"Who are you calling, anyway? It's not as though anyone can help you scare off imaginary suitors a year in advance."

He gave her a feral smile, brushing a finger over her cheek. "You underestimate your emperor, my love. Where there's a will, there's a way."


	18. Expressive Media

****  
**Title**: Expressive Media  
**Time**: 49 ABY

"Who did you say made this?"

"A Chandrillan artist."

"Uh huh."

Silence.

"And you're sure it was supposed to be in our _honor_?"

"That is how it was presented to me, yes."

"Because it looks like they're-"

"Yes, I know. Ashik thought so too."

"_Ashik_ saw this?"

"Is that a problem?"

"I guess not," Jaina conceded after a moment. "Did he check it for-"

"No homing, infiltration, or explosive devices have been found on it. Ashik's search was very thorough"

"As thorough as yours?"

Jag cocked a brow, giving her a sideways glance. "The thoroughness of his searches are more than satisfactory."

"Uh-huh," she answered skeptically.

For a long moment, they simply stared at the statue in silence.

"Do you think you could even get into that position?" Jaina wondered out loud.

"Easily," was his quick response. "It's you I'm worried about."

"Me?" Jaina pretended to be affronted, "I'll have you know I'm an accomplished Jedi."

"I'm aware, love. But levitating upside down takes concentration, and you tend to lose it when I-"

"You made your point, flyboy."

The corner of his mouth turned up in a satisfied smirk. "Of course, it _would_ become easier to keep your concentration with practice."

Jaina's jaw dropped, then she flushed. "Are you actually suggesting..." she trailed off at his grin.

Yes, clearly he was suggesting it. "It could be fun."

"Ten years," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. "Ten years of marriage and he's already resorting to this. We never would have had these problems if we hadn't gotten married..."

"I'm sure I can..._convince_ you to see things my way."

"Not unless you can figure out how to be the one levitating."

"It wouldn't work that way, regardless."

"Well then you're out of luck, Jag."

She didn't have to look at him to know he was smirking.

"We'll see," he murmured into her ear, sending shivers down her spine. In the next moment he was gone, making his way down the hall.

Jaina sighed in resignation. Yes, he could certainly convince her if he wanted to.

And it seemed he wanted to.


End file.
